


In For a Wild Ride

by headraline



Series: Detroit: Become Human Prompts [9]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cop Connor, Hank and Carl are briefly mentioned, M/M, activist markus, but it's mostly just RK1000, human!AU, implied Top Connor, implied switch dynamic, markus is a cheeky little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15692895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: For the prompt:Human!AU, Connor is a cop on his off-day, just enjoying a doughnut on his motorcycle, when some dude jumps on the back and just yells "DRIVE!" cause he's being chased by cops. After the excitement dies down, Connor finds out the dude he just saved is the infamous political activist Markus, and despite themselves, they're both smitten.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Дикая гонка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165159) by [N7Dron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/N7Dron/pseuds/N7Dron)



> I don't remember who sent me this prompt, but here it is.
> 
> I started writing it this morning and had a morning at the beach and a day out in the little seaside town in the midst of it.  
> So...I've got a good speed going on.
> 
> Bonus chapter for "Switch up, Fall in" is probably gonna come either tomorrow night or the day after.  
> ...so... I don't know where you are, person who sent the prompt, but... I hope you like it? ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> (this may or may not turn into a two-shot if anyone would be interested in a sequel where Markus gets himself arrested solely to see Connor again XD )

Before becoming an actual detective, Connor always thought the donut thing was just a funny stereotype perpetrated by mainstream media. Then he was riding home from a hard day and caught the smell coming out of the tiny little shop with the black and white donut sign and the neat, bold letters spelling “Crosstown”.

They have sixteen different flavours, including but not limited to matcha tea or passion fruit.

It was love at first bite.

So here he is now, sitting on his parked motorcycle on the side of the road just outside the shop and enjoying a taste of the new and improved limoncello donut –Sophie, the girl at the counter that knows him well enough to know that he doesn’t really have an ‘usual’, just walks in and asks how can they _mess him up today_ , suggested that he tried it; and holy shit, Sophie is a genius.

The tang of the lemony liquor is just the perfect thing to balance out the sweetness of the frosting and it’s really just what he needs to forget his daily woes –not that he’s got anything to gripe about today specifically, it’s his day off, but this one sweet transgression gets him through any and all bullshit life could ever throw at him.

His day takes a sudden shift when someone jumps on the back of his seat, catching him off-guard enough to nearly make him choke on that last bite and yelling “Drive!!!”

Blame the surprise, blame the shock, blame his brain not quite catching up to his instinct, or blame the roguish, velvety voice at his back and the arms encircling his chest; but fact is that Connor’s body comes to life and the bike’s engine with him.

It becomes clear in less than three seconds that someone his chasing this dude, whoever he is, and that Connor is possibly making himself an accomplice for something illicit –that’s sirens behind them and… he tries a quick glance at the rear-view mirror. He can’t quite make out the patrol number, but it might be someone he knows in there.

Well, shit.

The correct thing to do would be to turn around and hand this delinquent over to his colleagues but… how awkward would it be to explain why he just complied with a random stranger’s request to _run from the cops_? Nah, in for a penny, in for a pound: the best thing he can do is evade the patrol, gain this guy’s trust, find out what he did, and then arrest him himself.

“Turn there!” his passenger sharply orders, and Connor can feel his tires screech along the pavement since the direction came almost too late and he has to turn quite sharply –so this guy is used to evasive driving and knows to change directions at the last possible second to make it harder for whoever is onto them.

Despite himself, Connor starts to enjoy it. It’s a strange thrill to be on the other side for once, and he can’t quite hold back a laugh when the mystery fugitive points an arm in front of them and yells “In there!”

The detective accelerates and they slip into an alleyway that’s too tiny for a patrol car to possibly fit into. He looks around. They’re close to Ferndale.

“Keep going, all the way to the docks.” The stranger says, much calmer now that the police is off their tail, and _wow_ , that is a nice voice.

No, he has to focus. This guy might have committed a major felony, whether or not his voice sounds nice or his well-toned arms feel good around Connor’s chest is _irrelevant_.

Docks is a generous word for the place they arrive to, it’s really more of a boat junkyard, the most prominent of them all being a big mercantile with the name _Jericho_ painted along the rusty sides. There’s a platform leading into it, and scaffolding all around tells the detective it’s being decommissioned, but apparently that’s exactly where they’re headed.

It’s a bit eerie to park his motorcycle inside the hull of a boat that’s gone red and brown with rust all over, the creaks and moans of metal all around them, but Connor has to admit –his heart is still beating hard from the adrenaline rush of the chase, and the atmosphere around them keeps it going.

“Thanks for that, you really did me a solid.” Then the stranger dismounts and walks to the side, so Connor can take a good look at him; and _holy shit_.

He’d be inclined to forgive most crimes for _that_ face.

The stranger wears his hair close-shaved, has the barest hint of stubble over his sharp jawline and the most amazing eyes Connor has ever seen –the right one a light blue, the left one a vibrant green. Add to that the faded grey jeans, zipper vest and leather jacket, and he looks taken straight out of a cyberpunk comic book—

Wait.

He’s _seen_ this guy before.

It’s not every day, after all, that they bring a vandal with heterochromia to the precinct. Markus Manfred, passionate and infamous political activist and a bit of a running joke among the guys at the precinct: his ‘crimes’ are never severe enough to warrant doing time, and he can always bail himself out of whatever trouble his protests and escapades get him in.

He is after all, the son of the very wealthy painter Carl Manfred –who is also known for his very passionate views and opinions and was a troublemaker himself in his youth, if tales from Connor’s own old man are any indication.

Still, Hank eventually came to respect and even admire Manfred senior; and when Chris brought Markus in at the station for making a pro-LGBT graffiti painting all over the poster of one of those ‘pro-life’ and ‘pro-family’ events, Hank definitely cut the kid some slack and Connor even saw him joke around with the infamous Markus while the paperwork for paying the bail got sorted out.

They also had a picture of the graffiti and, well. In Connor’s humble opinion, it was a _definite_ improvement compared to the poster.

It doesn’t save Connor the shock that makes him go, in an almost cartoonish fashion: “…you!!!”

Markus seems very amused at that, and he may or may not be recognizing Connor himself just about now –he keeps it in much better, arching a brow elegantly and echoing: “…me?”

“You’re— and I just—” the detective can’t quite find the right words, and he just deflates, “…what did you do this time?”

“Nothing too bad…” Markus assures, with an innocent tone that’s way too innocent to be genuine, “I may or may not have sprayed slogans in red paint on someone’s car.”

“I should be arresting you, right now.” And he could, he brought his handcuff set with him despite being off for the day, out of repetitive habit.

Contrary to Connor’s expectations, the rogue artist doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest –if anything his expression is almost… intrigued.

And _oh_ , he is. He had never met Hank Anderson before that one night a few weeks ago, but _holy shit_ he’s gonna have words with his father if Carl knew the Lieutenant had a hot son –it might have come up while he was talking to Hank and the Lieutenant noticed him staring at the brown haired beauty more than he cared to listen to the same things over and over.

Hank let him off decidedly easy, but made him promise to at least try not to get himself into more trouble –and stay away from it if he ever so much wants a chance with the pretty one with the curly hair.

Well. He’s technically not in trouble right now. He bites at his lower lip, and sees his current companion follow the movement with his eyes.

Hm. This could work.

He steps around the motorcycle and walks well into the detective’s personal space. Connor takes a step back, Markus takes one forward. “You should…” the painter whispers, making a show of hooding his gaze, “The real question is… will you?”

Connor can’t believe what’s happening –he’s struggling to even _process_ it. Is Markus trying to _seduce_ his way out of arrest? He’s technically on his day off so it’s not really breaking any laws right now, but attempting to seduce an officer of the law is such a reckless thing to do, it’s stupid, it’s… insanely hot.

And it doesn’t escape Connor that however much outrage he feels at the generic concept, he’s _letting_ Markus come onto him. He tries to back up some more, only to end up with the artist cornering him against a wall, a rusty pipe to his left and ventilation shafts to his right. “What’s your name, _officer_?”

“…Connor.” He has to gulp to actually be able to take a deep breath –how is this happening? Sure, Markus is probably the most attractive guy he’s ever laid eyes upon and maybe, just maybe, he can kind of get behind the messages the young Manfred tries to send to the world; but there’s a _proper_ way, there are _rules_ and _laws_ for a reason and you can’t just—

“That’s a lovely name… Connor.” You can’t just whisper someone’s name like _that_ and expect them _not_ to imagine you on your knees for them. “Are you really going to arrest me? Are you going to _cuff_ me and have your way with me?”

“I— that would be—” Connor never had any such silly power play fantasy before, but once it’s out of Markus’ decidedly delicious-looking lips, he can’t stop thinking about it, and the other’s paint-stained fingers running slowly up his chest are _not_ helping. “What are we even doing?”

He sounds so helplessly lost that Markus feels something soften in his heart. “Honestly? Not a clue.” He admits, sneaking his other hand behind the detective’s neck, “But I figure, I’m already in trouble… if kissing you right now gets me into more of it, so be it.” He says, leaning in just shy of touching Connor’s lips. “The real question is… do _you_ want this enough to get into some trouble?”

Connor’s hands were already hovering at Markus’ sides, but that question is enough to make him decide. He’s always so impeccably controlled, so prim and proper, always on the straight and narrow… the wild, careless call of trouble, traveling on mismatched eyes and a secretive smile is basically a siren’s song –he stops thinking and starts _feeling_.

Markus kisses like he does most other things –with full, reckless abandon. He opens his mouth for Connor with the same easy trust he gave in letting him drive to this little hideout, and the detective doesn’t disappoint: he really _goes_ for it, allowing himself this one taste, this one time breaking all the rules; and it tastes like dessert after dessert.

He can’t help but bite down when his teeth graze Markus’ lower lip, and the sound it brings forth from the other’s mouth tells Connor that there’s no complaints about it, especially when the painter’s hands snake their way behind his shoulder-blades and start slowly running down his back.

Sighing into the kiss, before briefly leaning back to let Connor attack his neck, Markus thinks he really hit the jackpot with this guy –he’s hot, he kisses like he means it and, from what little he was able to gauge, is also sweet as all fuck… he will feel horrible about this, but he’s already thinking up ways to make it right. After all, Connor really seems like a sweet guy, and he wouldn’t want to let the last impression between them to be a bad one.

Still… love and war.

Letting his hands wander further down, he cops two full handfuls of supple buttocks through the detective’s jeans. _Definitely_ hit the jackpot, he thinks, smirking his way into another kiss as Conor bucks his hips forward at the contact.

“Fuck…” Markus curses in a hissed whisper when he feels the detective’s obvious arousal press against him, pulling away reluctantly. “I’m going to feel _so bad_ about this…”

“About what?” Connor asks, almost in a daze, leaning his face ever so slightly forward to chase the painter’s lips.

 Markus pulls back the rest of the way, brushing the other’s lips with his fingers, before opening his hand and showing what’s in it: “…this.”

Those keys look awfully familiar—

The ‘clang’ of metal against metal echoes within the ship, as Connor tries to reach his left arm forward and finds it cuffed to the pipe. “Hey!!! You—“

Predictably, the detective is outraged, and Markus can scarcely endure the betrayed expression. “I’m sorry! I _can’t_ get caught today!”

“You manipulative _asshole—_ ”

“No! Please, don’t think that!” Markus pleads, going back on his tracks to leave one last peck at the corner of Connor’s mouth. “I really do like you.” He says, low and warm and hoping the detective can find it in himself to forgive him as he slinks the keys back where they belong –in Connor’s back pocket. “I just need a five minute head-start. Can you trust me with just one thing?”

Connor doesn’t want to, he feels betrayed, slightly humiliated, and _very_ pissed off, but… just the proximity of Markus’ skin is so intoxicating that he’s already rationalizing about second chances. “What?” he all but growls to the other.

“Turn around before you start chasing me.”

That said, Markus leaps back with a wink and a mock-salute; and disappears out in the docks.

Damn it, he’s been played like a newbie, swayed by a pretty face and a silver tongue. Connor shakes his head at his own naivety, as he fishes his key out of his back pocket to un-cuff himself. He half expects the word ‘gullible’ to be written on the wall behind him when he turns, but once he actually does he can’t quite contain a smirk.

Scratched on the rusted metal surface, there’s a phone number and a message: _call me when you’re off the clock_.

Markus must have used his keys to write it while he was… distracted.

Connor huffs out a chuckle.

 _Maybe_ he can cut the man some slack, just this once.

“You win _this_ round, Markus.”


	2. Worth getting into trouble for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lesson to be learned from all this. [...] It almost physically pains him, but he pulls away. “That’s enough.” Connor whispers, inches away from the painter’s lips,
> 
> The lesson being ‘payback is a bitch’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand part two as promised!  
> Connor gets payback, Markus gets repaid with his own coin, and there's also a tiny sweet little something at the end to wrap it up in a neat little bow! ♥
> 
> Hope it lives up to the wait! ♥
> 
> I'll take the remaining four days of my holiday to properly and truly rest up, but fret not, after the 20th there'll be more prompts coming! ♥ ♥ ♥

Markus sighs as officer Miller drags him into the station. This is the _last_ time he covers North’s ass and takes the fall for _her_ shenanigans. Granted, he supported her cause and the asshole pushing to try and have her fired from her teaching class because of her sexual orientation kinda deserved to have his door vandalized, but… he kind of _is_ trying to get less into trouble, for… reasons.

“Hey— take it easy, Chris, I’m coming!” he protests, when the officer tugs him along a bit –damn it, he was daydreaming again.

Miller chuckles, “You know, it’s been a while, Markus, we were almost worried you’d actually become a good boy!”

The artist settles into the patrol car as if into a taxi. “How long have you known me, Miller?” he says, winking at the man from the rear-view mirror, “I’m about as bad as it gets.”

“Tell that to Lieutenant Anderson, see what he thinks.”

Low blow, officer. “Shit, is he on shift?!” if Anderson is in, chances are his son will be too. Markus sits up and smooths over his clothes, much to Chris’ amusement.

He is on his best behaviour when Miller brings him in and hands him over straight to Hank.

“Fuck’s sake, kid.”

Markus doesn’t know what is it with gruff parental figures making you feel guilty even when you’ve done nothing wrong, but he sheepishly ducks his head. “I can explain, Lieutenant—”

“Yeah, yeah, same song and dance.” Anderson mutters, shaking his head. “It’s too late in the night for this shit, come with me.”

As usual, Markus obediently lets himself be ushered into the interrogation room –delighted to see Connor joining them. He straightens his shoulders and moves with a calculated sort of grace when the Lieutenant gestures at him to take a seat.

“So, are we gonna play ‘good cop, bad cop’?” he probably should feel embarrassed, flirting in front of Connor’s father, but it’s been too long ever since he looked into those gorgeous brown eyes and the faint red colouring the young detective’s cheeks is totally worth it.

Hank looks both amused and exasperated. “That depends, who do you think is the bad one?”

Oh, you put that on a silver platter, Lieutenant. Markus leans both forearms on the table and turns to purposefully look at Connor. “Pease, tell me it’s you.”

“Okay, I’m gonna need coffee for this.” Anderson senior looks _so done_ with his bullshit that Markus almost feels bad for a second, but then he exchanges a sort of knowing nod with his son and the artist feels the hair on the back of his neck slightly stand –he may or may not have walked into… something, here. “I’ll be back when you’re done being a little shit.”

And just like that, they get left alone in the interrogation room –well, in a manner of speaking. Markus’ eyes flicker to the one-way mirror, wondering if they’re being watched right now.

For his part, Connor just loosens his tie a little bit and takes a couple steps forward; just enough to lean against the edge of the table Markus is sitting at. He looks down at him with a friendly, almost warm expression. “So, what did you do _this_ time?”

The painter locks eyes with him and allows himself a crooked smirk. “So… not the bad cop, then?”

Just then, something dangerous flashes along Connor’s gaze, coming and going in a matter of moments: “That… depends entirely on how cooperative you’ll be.”

“I already feel like Sharon Stone.” Markus jokes, and he can see he just gave the detective a _lot_ of mental images with just that reference. Interesting.

Connor reaches out a hand to softly grasp Markus’ chin and tilt it up towards him –the artist flashes another look to the side where the observation room is situated: is no one there? Is someone actually there while Connor just _doesn’t care_? The very thought already gives him the barest hint of shivers down his back.

“I know you’re better than this, Markus.” The detective remarks, holding his mismatched stare much more easily, now that he was prepared for it, “Did you really vandalize someone’s door?”

No matter how pretty Connor is or how close he’s leaning towards him, Markus won’t rat his friend out. “They did find me on site with all the paint cans and everything, didn’t they?” he just says, not quite able to lie right to the detective’s so very pretty face.

“I’m not hearing a confession…”

Markus’ chin gets released a bit roughly and he finds himself shoved back into the chair as he realizes… through all of this, no one bothered to un-cuff him.

Did Anderson _plan_ this with his son?! Mischief lights up his face; and he looks up at the other. “Why don’t you try and _extract_ one out of me?”

“You know, I just might.” Connor says, leaning down and resting both hands on the chair’s armrests, effectively caging Markus in, “I don’t take kindly to being made a fool of.”

This is surprisingly more fun than the painter could have hoped to anticipate. Clearly, on an even playing field Connor is definitely not the flustered mess that fumbled his way through making out with a fugitive. “Am I in trouble… _detective_?” Markus asks, licking his lips.

“Do you _want_ this enough to get into some trouble?” Connor throws his own words back at him with a wink, and it’s about all it takes for Markus to give in and lean upwards to try and get a kiss.

The detective doesn’t let him at first, leaning back so that his lips only found empty space, but then Connor grabs him by his cuffed wrists and loops his arms over his own head. “There.” He whispers, “Much comfier, don’t you think?”

Markus would love to retort something, anything, but he really, really just wants to get on with this and kiss the living daylights out of Connor. So he does –and this time, he meets him half-way.

Kissing Connor is just as tasty as he remembers it –clearly, the young detective has a sweet tooth, but even if he didn’t, Markus is willing to bet it’d still feel like having a guilty treat. He bends his elbows to tug Connor closer and deepen the kiss, which the detective is all too happy to do.

This time, Connor is a much more active participant in their little moment, and the hands running down a toned chest all the way to grab at a supple pair of hips are his –and Markus nearly jumps when said hands slip under his thighs and Connor bodily _hauls him off_ the chair to sit him onto the interrogation table.

“This is new.” He breathes against the detective’s jawline, prompting a little chuckle from Connor that sets a fire that runs from his chest down.

“You’ve barely scratched the surface, beautiful.”

Markus leans back slightly to search the other’s eyes: “So you do think I’m beautiful?”

Not deigning that with an answer, Connor just shakes his head minutely and leans forward some more, making Markus tilt slightly backwards as he goes for the neck and sneaks a hand under his t-shirt.

Markus’ skin is hot and responsive under his fingertips, arching and reacting to every touch; and the temptation to throw his little plan to the wind and just have his way with his target is strong, especially when the painter all but moans into his mouth— Connor will never be able to thank Hank enough for clearing the observation room and covering his ass on this.

But there’s a lesson to be taught in all of this, the detective remembers, as he snakes his hand back down and away from Markus’ chest, ‘casually’ palming him through his jeans and biting back a smirk at the realization of finding him hard and wanting just for him…

It almost physically _pains_ him, but he pulls away. “That’s enough.” Connor whispers, inches away from the painter’s lips, “This is a police station, we got too carried away.”

The lesson being ‘payback is a bitch’.

“What—” Markus is still dazedly trying to chase his lips as the detective loops his cuffed arms up and away from his head.

“It’s not right to do this while you’re under arrest.” Which is bullshit and they both know it, because if so he wouldn’t have started at all, but by now Connor doesn’t mind if Markus can tell he got played. “I’m an officer of the law, it would be beyond in appropriate to continue. I’ll go get Hank so he can un-cuff you, and then you can discuss bail and charges with him.”

“What?” Markus repeats, not quite willing to believe it. And yet Connor is already stepping away from the table, leaving him to slide off it still cuffed, with a rumpled shirt and his jeans quite obviously tented. “No, come on, you _can’t_ leave me like this—”

Pausing just by the door, Connor finally drops the professional façade and regards him with a smirk. “You wanted me to be the _bad cop_.”

An additional lesson could be ‘careful with what you wish for’.

 Connor disappears through the door with a wink, leaving a stunned Markus to then have a very embarrassing discussion with Hank.

Personal romantic vendettas aside, the painter gets released on bail since the plaintiff seemed adamant that whoever vandalized his front door wasn’t him, despite the young man willingly taking the fall. Having known Markus long enough to know that he’s probably covering for a friend, Hank drives him home to Carl and gets the full story in the car, off the record –and even then the boy never says the name of the person whose ass he covered.

Loyal to a fault, this one. _Maybe_ Hank will cut him some slack about Connor.

-

Markus didn’t quite expect to see Connor among the anti-riot unit, and he just _has_ to break formation and go to him before the protest starts. He shoots North an apologetic look and she rolls her eyes at him as he quickly runs to his boyfriend, giant-ass flag and all.

They’ve been dating for a while; and it would seem that each has been a good influence on the other –Markus has stopped gallivanting around and dishing out vigilante justice, turning instead to solid activism in the form of manifesting legally for the things he believes in; and Connor has become less stringent about rules and his own life even, learning to cut himself some slack every once in a while.

Hank has told Carl, because _of course_ he did, and Carl has been teasing Markus non-stop about it, but the activist can’t bring himself to care: he’s happier than he’s ever been with someone –really, jumping on Connor’s motorcycle that one time might be the best stupid stunt he ever pulled.

Today, they’re protesting against people taking advantage of the grey areas in legislation to get away with anti-abortion practices and refusing assistance to women in need. It shouldn’t be too dangerous, but whenever a gathering is big enough, the force comes to keep things in check.

“What are you doing with the anti-riot unit?!” he exclaims worriedly, once he’s close enough, “I thought you were in homicide!”

“I am, but they needed more people for this event, and I did receive the basic training, so…” Connor lets himself trail off with a half shrug and a smile.

Markus has to admit, the armor looks good on him. He smiles, mismatched eyes coming alive with mischief. “Do they let you keep this?”

“Markus…”

“I’m just saying, it’s giving me ideas…”

“Markus!” Connor reprimands him, but he laughs along when his boyfriend chuckles.

He’s still not sure that Markus is really joking –probably not— but he allows one small peck on the lips.

From the thick of the crowd, Josh starts greeting everyone with the loudspeaker and explaining what’s gonna happen. Suddenly turning serious, Markus rests a hand against Connor’s cheek. “Ok, so, we’re gonna start from here, then we’re gonna walk all the way through Larned street and turn into Woodward avenue.”

Connor already sort of knew the itinerary, but it hits him suddenly: “That’s… a lot of noise right outside City Hall.”

“What’s a protest worth if we don’t create _some_ sort of disturbance?” his boyfriend asks with a wink.

“Markus, I thought you were a pacifist…”

“A pacifist? Yes. A pushover? Not quite.” He says, lifting up a hand again to squeeze Connor’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t have anyone trying to start shit, but all the same… be careful.” He pleas, voice lowering slightly as he turns serious and fixes this sort of _look_ he always gives when Connor has to go do his job— he worries. He can’t help it; his boyfriend has a dangerous job.

Connor returns the look with a loving expression of his own. “I always am.” He whispers, managing to make Markus smile.

“Good.” He says, diving in for one last quick kiss.

They’re both in for a proverbial ‘wild ride’ –it’s definitely gonna be one hell of a morning… but at least, at the end of the day, they’ll have each other.


End file.
